CHAPTER II.
An't be any way, it must be with valour; for Policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. TWELFTH NIGHT.
The family at No. 11 on the Parade, were seated at breakfast one morning towards the latter end of May; the old trio, only with Elizabeth and Rose in each other's places.
"What is the reason Winthrop Landholm don't come here any more?" said the latter lady.
"I don't know," said Mr. Haye, when the silence had threatened the failure of any answer at all.
"What's the reason, Lizzie?"
"I don't know! — how should I?"
"I am sure I can't tell," said Rose, "but I didn't know but you did. I wish you'd ask him to come again, Mr. Haye — do you know how he is getting up in the world?"
"I know how cotton is falling," said Mr. Haye, swallowing his tea and the newspaper apparently both at the same time.
"Cotton! —" said Rose. "Now Mr. Haye, just put down that paper and listen to me; — do you know how Winthrop Landholm is holding his head up?"